Mask of Reality
by Mrs. Trickster Queen
Summary: Erik was all alone and hurt. That is, until a trip to the marketplace brought him to the attention of Miss Adelaide Whethers... This is the story of how Erik got his mask and his first friend. Please read!


**Summary: Erik was all alone and hurt. That is, until a trip to the marketplace brought him to the attention of Miss Adelaide Whethers…**

**Hi! I based this mostly off of the movie version of Erik, so this isn't at all what the book claims Erik's past to be. The plot came from me wondering what could make someone as bitter as Erik trust again, and also what would have happened if someone got to Erik before Madame Giry. Anyway, as always, read, review, and enjoy!**

**And also: I know how many of you come onto this story. Am I to believe none of you have opinions? PLEASE REVIEW!**

I yowled as I tripped over something. My marketplace trips were often fraught with me falling and stumbling all around the pothole covered roads, although this time, my foot hadn't been sucked into a misplaced hole, it had been stopped by something bulging out…

"Oh!" I cried as I retrieved my balance, turned to look at what I had stumbled upon, and found it looking at me. A boy, maybe a year or two older then my thirteen years, was hunched over on the ground. I had probably accidently bruised him, and I bashfully knelt next to him, thinking it my duty as a citizen and a lady to make sure he was alright. "Hello, sir. I'm sorry, I didn't see you in the road. Pardon me, but did I hurt you?"

The boy shook his head, his dark eyes meeting mine and holding more then a bit of suspicion. I frowned when he didn't offer any more of an explanation or bother to take the potato sack over his head off. I supposed it was for warmth on the streets, but it was perfectly impolite to have on when talking to someone. "Um, so, are you alright?" He nodded. "Do you need any… help?" He shook his head again. "Are you mute?" I blurted. I knew it was rude, but then, he was being very rude unless he had such a good excuse.

The boy seemed to debate this. Then he opened his mouth and, in a very hoarse voice, proclaimed, "I don't think so." Then he shook his head. "I'm not mute."

I nodded slowly. The boy was giving me two instinctual reactions. One was my gut telling me to run as far as I could from this scrap of a teenager and never look back. Two was my head and heart telling me that was a silly reaction, and to help this boy. He was very dirty and very thin, as if he hadn't eaten in a while. "Well, I would invite you to dinner, but I don't believe my mother would enjoy me bringing home a stranger, so why don't you tell me your name and we can talk a little?" I was trying to find an excuse to feed him- he seemed the sort of fellow who would take offense to such an assumption.

"I don't need your charity."

Well, I hadn't been wrong. "It isn't charity, honestly. I really do want to get to know you- you're rather intriguing." And he was, despite his ill manners and rancid smell.

"I'm not a penny on the street. Go be intrigued by something else."

At this, a loud voice proclaimed, "There he is! There's the Devil's Child!" Two men, one fat with a chained watch hanging out of one pocket and one seedy-looking and thin, hurried up to my current companion. "Move away, girlie," the seedy one commanded, bringing a horse whip forth. "This thing's dangerous."

"He isn't a thing, he's a boy!" I pronounced very clearly. The man rolled his sunken eyes and pushed me out of the way before raising his whip. He was going to strike the boy! I cried out and moved in front of the teenager just as the whip came down, biting into my arm. Holding back a cry of pain, I knelt beside the startled boy. "You know, I don't believe my mother would mind so much after all. Please come with me."

I was then thrown aside and a scream echoed around the marketplace. I looked around the crowd that had gathered desperately, but for some reason, the repulsed looks on their faces weren't aimed at the man with the whip. They were aimed at the boy. "Why aren't you doing something?" I cried.

"Devil's Child," a man murmured, and I turned back to face the horrible scene to see what nonsense he was blathering on about. The now unmasked boy looked up at me, pain echoing in his magnificent eyes, and I was unable to hold in a gasp.

Half of the boy's face was extremely handsome, enough to make my heart skip a beat. The other half was terrible scarred and disfigured, pulling the skin into unnatural shapes around his fine bones.

I quickly got over my surprise, however. The boy was still human and still in pain. "Get off him, you scoundrel!" I yelled as the boy's mask fell back down to hide his face. The whip seared into the boy's back and I kicked out, my skirts getting in the way per usual. It was enough, however, to make the man call out in pain, which was rather less then that he had been inflicting, and drop the whip. "Devil's Child, indeed. More like superstitious nonsense." I helped the boy to his feet, ignoring the suspicious look he was shooting me. I could introduce him to gratitude later- there was obviously not a lot in his life to be thankful for. "May I take you home?"

The man, recovered from my rather weak kick, snatched the boy from my grasp. "I'll do that," he snarled. "He belongs with us- the freak show- and he's the main attraction." Chuckling nastily, he dragged the boy away.

Well, I wasn't going to let that horrid man just take the boy, whether he belonged with them or not. I stalked after the pair.

We quickly descended into the depths of the alleys, the bad areas my mother would faint if she knew I was traveling in, especially without being chaperoned. Shadows clutched at my skirts at every turn, foul-smelling liquids trickled down the crevices in the street, and trash was piled by the roads. The whole time the man was muttering threats to the boy and didn't even notice me.

Finally, the pair entered some grimy gates that barred off filthy tents and hovels. Odd people lurked in them- hunchbacks, one woman with long hair on her eyebrows, people with bulging body parts, and the like. I grimaced, pity encompassing my heart as I approached the gate.

"We're closed." A fat lady sidled up to me and gave me what was probably meant to be a smile. "Come back at ten tonight for the world's creepiest-"

"I'm not here for the show," I interrupted. The woman stopped mid rant. He mouth was hanging open, giving me a lovely view of her cracked, decaying teeth.

"You ain't?"

"No." I sighed. "I'm just here for the, er, Devil's Child?"

"He's part'a da show."

"I know, but I just want to talk to him."

"Talk to 'im?" The unpleasant woman guffawed, spraying me with disgusting spittle. I wiped my cheek with a handkerchief. "A lady wants ta talk with da Devil's Child? Yeah, sure. Come back at ten." She peered at me. "Unless, o' course, ya got some money…?"

I frowned. Was I honestly going to have to pay this woman to see the boy? Why had I gone through all this trouble to see him, anyway? I didn't know him. I had just tripped over him, for goodness sakes! But my mother would never let me come back, and something about that boy held my curiosity… I sighed and dropped a coin into the woman's greasy palm. "Just let me talk to him."

"Of course," she cackled, sticking the coin greedily down her front and opening the gate for me. Cautiously, I stepped through. "He's in the big striped tent at the end of the field," the woman called after me. Nodding to show I had heard, I quickly strode through the freak show. No one bothered me, thankfully, and I made it to the big tent without much trouble. Without preamble, I stepped inside.

It was dank and dark inside, filled with the sound of pitiful whimpers. As I let the flap flutter shut, I was doused in almost complete darkness. My heart beat faster and adrenaline filled my veins. What was I thinking, letting myself in to some unknown tent in the bad side of town with no chaperone and no way to get out! I was in pitch black, for crying out loud! And how was I ever going to get back home in time for supper?

Then I heard it. Filtering through the whimpers and sobs, someone- a boy- was singing. His voice, though quiet, was filled with longing and pain, and my heart felt like it had been stabbed as I listened.

"Ever dream out in the world, there are arms to hold you? You've always known your heart was on its own…" A dim light revealed itself as a bundle shifted, illuminating the face of the boy. His eyes were closed, and the voice radiated from him. Even without knowing the lyrics, I wanted to sing along and maybe ease the pain from his voice a little.

"Are you there?" I asked, mostly to announce my presence. The singing stopped abruptly and I frowned. "Don't stop singing; that was beautiful."

"Who are you?" he whispered. I saw that the sack was once again covering his face and I shuddered, seeing in my minds eye the whip cracking down on the "Devil's Child's" back.

"Miss Adelaide Whethers, at your service. I just wanted to come and make sure you were alright." I knew how silly that sounded when everything obviously wasn't alright- the boy lived in a dirty tent with a sack over his head and a cruel guardian that whipped him.

My companion turned around and brought the lantern with him, illuminating a series of grimy metal bars. I gasped. He was enclosed in a cage like a feral dog! "Oh, why are you in there? Where's the door? Come out at once!" He was scaring me.

Rough laughter bubbled up from the boy's throat, too mature and deep for his age. The sound bordered on maniacal. "As if I had a choice. I'm a freak- why do you care what happens to me?"

"Because you're a boy that can't be much older then I, and it isn't right for someone to whip another like that." I moved closer. "Does your back hurt a lot?" Then I shook my head. "I'm sorry, that was a daft question."

"I'm a freak." His voice was deadpan. Then there was a pause, and a hand reached out from between the bars as if to shake. I gave it a small grin and put my own into it. The boy started, almost as if this wasn't what he was intending, but with a small hesitation he gripped my hand firmly. He was surprisingly strong for a boy living in the conditions he was.

"You can take off that sack, if you want," I said cautiously, not knowing how sensitive the boy was. Sure enough, he snatched his hand back, cradling it protectively to his chest. Watching me with his dark, wary eyes, he scuttled into the shadows a bit.

"So you can gape at me like everyone else? Why are you here?" His voice was sharp and accusatory.

"No!" I denied quickly. "Of course not. I just thought it must be uncomfortable for you to have that over your head. And I honestly came to see if you were alright." I met his gaze with only a slight shiver- his stare was cold and unwelcoming.

"Uncomfortable?" There was that low laugh again. "Yes, it is rather uncomfortable." A pause, and then the boy lifted the sack over his head. In the dull lantern light, shadows were thrown on his scars, making them look even worse. I gazed at him in pity.

"What happened to you?" I asked quietly. Then I gasped. "Oh, how presumptuous of me! I didn't mean- I was only curious." I mentally kicked myself. What was it about this boy that made me trip over my own tongue? Maybe it was that so many topics were taboo.

"I was born," the boy answered bitterly. I bit my lip and stared at the floor. I really wanted to leave, but it would be terribly rude to go like this. Well, there was one thing that I knew wasn't going to be a bad subject to talk about.

"What's your name?" My voice cut into the silence even at its quiet tone and I winced as the boy turned slowly to me. Well, I had gone partially into the subject- time to dive in. "I mean, I don't think the Devil's Child is your name, but I can't call you 'the boy.'"

"Don't call me anything, then."

I gaped. I was just trying to make simple conversation, and this boy was making it very difficult indeed! "Well, I shall just have to call you John, then, if you won't tell me your real name."

After a moment's hesitation, the boy's velvet tones crept into my ears. "It's Erik."

Ah. The boy had a name, then, and a very nice one, too. I smiled, pleased with myself. "Erik, then. It was very nice to meet you." I ignored the snort of disbelief. "I shall have to be going now, but I will come back if you would like me to." I was lying, trying to be polite. Erik probably wouldn't want me to come back anyway.

"Stay away from here, it's no place for a girl anyway."

Well, then. "Alright. Goodbye, Erik."

"Goodbye, Adelaide." A pause. "When you go out of here, take the alleyway on the right and keep going straight. You'll come out next to the Opera House."

"Thank you."

As I opened the door to the flap, I heard him singing that song again. It was a different verse, but very much so the same song. "Laugh in your loneliness, Child of the Wilderness. Learn to be lonely. Learn how to love a life that is lived alone."

Back at home, I stared morosely out at the Opera Populaire. Its marble front used to comfort me, tease me. I had always wanted to sing there when I was older. My voice was no soprano's; however, its deep richness wasn't unpleasant, and I always was soothed by the rising and falling of a song's notes. I couldn't even focus on my dream right now, however. The cries of Erik as he was whipped haunted my ears; his scarred features hovered in front of my eyes. The melody of his song slipped through my mind and I caught it, began to hum it, surprised when its notes fell as easily from my lips as water flowed down a stream. It was a beautiful song, and I lost myself for a moment in a world of pain and longing.

When the song had finished, I knew I had to go back and see Erik. Soon.

It was nine-o-clock at night when I finally escaped from dinner on the grounds that I had a stomach ache. The climb out of my window was no picnic either- it was easy enough to get through the window and onto the flat little expanse of roof outside my room. There were no trees fro me to latch on to and climb down from there, however, and I spent ten precious minutes shimmying down the gutter pipe and praying it didn't give out from under me. A drop to the pavement left my feet giving underway beneath me, and cursing dreadfully in my mind I scrambled to my feet and bolted for the alleyway I knew would lead me to the freak show.

It was dark out, and the various sounds of the underbelly of the city left me trembling in fright. Now that I had made it so far, however, I was not about to give up. I strode boldly out of the alleyway, drawn in against my will by the lights of the freak show. People had come in flocks, quite transforming the sad little circus I had visited earlier into a popular attraction. The foul woman I had conversed with earlier was taking the money from eager hands and returning little ticket stubs. Curses- I felt around in my pocket, realizing too late that I hadn't brought any money. I would have to find another way in.

It wasn't that difficult. A group of girls all around my age had gathered at the gate. I slipped in among them, pretending to be one of the many. The girl in the front paid for all of us at once, and the lady taking the money didn't even bother to count the group as she waved us all in.

Finally. Taking a deep breath, I plunged into the scene. Fire breathers twirled their flame all around me. A man with bulging eyes invited us into a dark tent to see the "Most Fabulous and Disturbing Sights You Will Ever See." I politely sidestepped him and continued walking, back, back, hearing the hubbub around me and shuddering with the knowledge that gentlemen and gentlewomen enjoyed this horror.

"The Devil's Child!" a woman cackled, pointing back to the striped tent. "Come and see the Son of Satan!" A queasy feeling erupted in my stomach as people flocked to see the attraction. Poor Erik. But how would I ever get a chance to talk to him with this crowd? A gaggle of girls shuffled inside and I reluctantly followed, vowing never to think well of the general public again.

Inside, Erik huddled in a corner of his cage, his hands balled into fists, his face covered by his mask. I grimaced in sympathy. What boy could survive this without being permanently scarred for the rest of his life? I knew that were I in his place, anger would be filling me up from the inside and earning me the name of Devil's Child, for I would want to kill the men who tortured me.

"Look upon this Devil's Child," a sordid man cried out. In his filthy hands laid the same whip I had witnessed striking Erik. "Look upon this malformed thing!" People jeered at the boy. A cigarette flew from the hand of one patron and struck Erik on the shoulder, right where his rags had worn away. I gasped in dismay, but Erik didn't even seem to feel it. He looked around at the crowd, his dark eyes pleading for salvage, but no one listened. It was as if the whole crowd had been blinded to the fact that crouching in front of them was a human child, not some vengeful beast. Finally, I could take it no more. A girl spit at him and I shoved her.

"Leave him alone!"

The crowd broke out in jeers, now aimed at me. Erik was staring right at me, almost as if he were looking right through my heart and soul. I shook off the uncomfortable shivers this gave me and faced the man with the whip. "He's only a child. Let him alone."

The man leered at me, his few teeth dirty and stained, then lashed out with the whip. It struck Erik hard, leaving a bloody mark on his arm. My cry was lost in the crowd's roar of approval. "No!" I shouted again, trying to force my way through the crowd to the poor boy. The whip stung the air again, and time seemed to stand still. I watched in disbelief as Erik grabbed the whip, ignoring the cut in made on his palm, and pulled the shady man to the bars of the cage. The man's eyes bulged, at first in incredulity and then in realization as his face slowly turned purple. His throat was pressed to the bars of the cage for no less then five long, agonizing minutes. Then, he slumped to the ground. I knew instantly that he had no life left in his body.

My mind simply wouldn't process the murder. Instead, it pushed a different issue to my attention: Erik was going to be killed if I didn't help him, and soon. I shoved through the stunned crowd, reaching Erik in only a few seconds. As the throng slowly began to realize what had just occurred, I snatched the keys off of the dead man's body and tried the first key I saw. Miraculously, it worked, and the cage door swung open. Erik just watched me as I crept inside and took his hand. "Come on," I hissed. "You have to leave right now."

Outside, the crowd was beginning to resemble a mob. I dragged the boy out of his metal prison and used the confusion to hustle him out of the odious tent. No one noticed he was missing. We ran hand-in-hand to the gate of the freak show, where the fat woman gasped and blocked our way. "What are you doing here?" she cried, reaching for Erik. "How did you escape?"

I had to do something before she caught him. Channeling all of my strength, I linked my hands and hit her as hard as I could in the back of the head, grimacing as I thought of the sins I had been committing ever since I met the strange boy. Assault could now be added to the list of hiding a murderer and going to a freak show. Maybe the good deed of trying to save an abused boy would make up for that. Somehow, I didn't think so, but I put that out of my mind and hit the now-reeling woman again. She dropped like I had shot her. Gulping, I grabbed Erik's hand again and pulled him away from the dreadful freak show. He stumbled with me, then gained strength and ran faster then I could manage in my heavy skirts. Now it was I who was being dragged along, his grip to hard to escape. Together we ran from the crime scene, him in the lead, until we finally emerged from the alleyways beside the opera house.

Erik stopped then, bringing me to a sudden halt that almost made me fall. The boy caught me, though, and placed me safely on my feet again. "Why did you do that?" he demanded, not looking at me. "You know that made you an accomplice to a murder? What do you want?"

His voice was ragged, his breathing even more so, and I bit my lip, recognizing his valiant efforts not to cry in front of a lady. "I don't want anything but to help."

Erik laughed, the maniacal sound that tore at my heart, and swore. "Everyone wants something. No one does something just to be kind."

"I don't want anything!" I exclaimed, now on the verge of tears myself. I had just saved this boy from being killed by a mob. The least he could do was show some gratitude, not accuse me of trying to abuse him more. "If anything, I wanted to help an innocent boy who I saw being whipped in the streets."

"An innocent boy doesn't kill a man." Erik's tone was colder then any I had ever heard. "You know that, and you still helped me."

"God save me, I know!" I wailed, the tears coursing down my cheeks. "I'm a cri-criminal now and I ju-ju-just wanted to h-help…" I was hiccupping and stuttering in-between sobs, but I couldn't pull myself together. Erik was staring at me with a mixture of helplessness and disgust, and even as I realized how foolish I must look, sobbing in front of a murderer, I cried harder. "I can n-never go h-home now and I'm so-so dense and f-f-foolish and I h-h-have no idea what to d-do and-"

To my surprise, Erik took off his mask. The handsome side was the only one lighted by the streetlamps, and I watched warily, tears still tracing cold tracks down my cheeks, as he walked closer to me. "Does this repulse you?" he asked quietly. "Does this scare you? Because this is what you helped."

"Ju-just because your f-face is scar-scarred doesn't m-make you a bad person," I protested. "And it i-isn't that b-bad."

Slowly, I watched Erik's carefully expressionless features transform with disbelief. "It isn't what?"

"It i-isn't that b-bad."

Suddenly, Erik laughed. It was the first time I had heard where maniacal undertones hadn't laced the sound, and I was surprised by how warm it was. So this mistreated boy still had the ability to find mirth. Against my will, a small smile broke out on my lips. "Adelaide," he said, and I was impressed by his ability to remember my name, "I assume you are the only person to ever believe that."

"Miss Whethers," I reprimanded sharply, although I was secretly pleased by the way my name had lilted off his tongue. "We are not properly acquainted yet."

Erik nodded grimly. "Very well."

We stood in silence for a moment, both reflecting on what had just happened. To my horror, I began to cry again, the broken body of the man at the freak show imprinted grotesquely upon my mind. "What do I do?" I wailed. Erik glanced at me in alarm.

"Shh," he hissed. "They will not have stopped looking for us yet." This only made me cry harder. "Shh!"

I sat heavily down upon the steps to the Opera Populaire and put my head in my hands. My shoulders shook uncontrollably. "What will my mother think?" I whispered. "Her daughter, whom she raised to be a proper young lady, is a murder accomplice!"

Erik grabbed my wrist and yanked it away from my face. "Listen. Forget about me, forget I ever existed. Turn me into the police now, say you caught me. I won't put up a fight. You'll be viewed as a hero, and you will not be endangered because of me."

"I will not do any such thing!" I said pertinently, my tears clearing as I stared at the boy. "I may be many things, but I am no liar. I started this, and I will see it through."

"No-" Erik began, but I stopped him with a finger to his lips. The ruined side was not rough like I had expected, but soft as if it were normal.

"I am no longer a proper young lady, and I see no reason to pretend I am now. Lying to turn you in would only weigh on my conscious until I too were dead. You don't deserve to die, Erik. I will help you live."

"What is there to live for?" he asked. There was no self pity in his tone, only fact. "I have no home, no family, a face everyone will fear me for. You have already given me the best gift I could have ever received: acceptance. You are the only one in millions, though, who will see me as anything except a freak. I am ready to end my life now rather then suffer through, at best, twenty more years."

"But you are so young," I whispered. I had been touched somewhere deep inside by his explanation. "You mustn't believe there isn't more for you."

"How can there be?" His eyes held all of the pain and suffering of the world, and I could barely stand to meet them.

"Well," I began, trying to morph the emotion into a smaller parcel I would be able to handle, "you have a lovely voice. Surely you cannot let that go to waste. Secondly, you seem to have a kind and noble heart. You would give up your life for a lady."

Erik shook his head. "I would give up my life gladly to end my suffering."

"And yet you have fought so hard to live up until this point." I studied him. "Come to my house. I have something that may be able to help you."

Ignoring his protests, I led him through the streets to my home. Never before had I been so ashamed of its splendor as when Erik, a boy who had lived on the streets and in a tent, viewed it. Quietly I pulled the key out of my dress's hidden pocket and turned the lock. The door didn't squeal, and I thanked God that my parents were sound sleepers as I led him to my room.

It was scandalous to allow a male into my chambers without another woman inside, but I didn't care much for manners right then. I took my Plaster of Paris out of its cupboard and motioned for Erik to sit. "Here, this will allow you to walk the streets without getting too much attention."

Carefully, I laid a strip of cloth into the plaster. A few more followed. Erik watched me with suspicion, but allowed me to lay a soaked strip to his ruined cheek. He stiffened suddenly and I bit my lip. "Is something wrong?" I asked, afraid I had hurt him.

"No," he said, and chuckled. "It's just cold."

I grinned at that and began to smooth the plaster over the boy's cheek. Another strip of cloth was laid next to that, and another, until the entire side of his face was covered. His eye blinked out at me. Gently, I smoothed everything out, then began to fashion a new face for him. Gone now were the raised scars and twisted skin. I mirrored his high cheekbones and beautiful bone structure in the mask, then stepped back. Yes. That would do. Carefully, I added some thin embroidery string to hold it on, then lifted my hand to smooth out a piece of cloth. Erik's hand reached up and caught mine and we stared at each other for a moment, him holding my hand to his face. I broke my gaze from his, aware that I was blushing, and murmured, "You just have to let it dry for a moment. Um, I will be right back." Ripping away from his grip, I fled from the room, conscious of his sharp eyes on my back.

I leaned against the wall outside of my room. I would not have to flee my home, I rationed. No one knew who I was or what I looked like. I would, however, need to find a place for Erik to stay. And, thinking about it, I realized I knew just who to ask.

Catching my breath, I walked back into the room. The Plaster of Paris had dried into a lovely mask, and I carefully lifted it off of his face. He was still watching me as I rinsed a washcloth in my basin and carefully cleaned the excess plaster off of his face. "There," I said.

"Thank you." He caught my hand again and held it. "Truly."

I cleared my throat. "Yes, well, I will also be able to arrange somewhere for you to stay. My friend is a ballerina in the Opera Populaire. She will be able to show you a nice place where no one will find you unless you wanted to be found." I looked down. "I'm sorry I cannot help you more."

Erik shook his head. "You have helped me much more then you could know." He stood up. "I will be going now."

"Go to the ballet dormitories and ask for Madame Giry. Say Adelaide Whethers sent you. Tell her you need a place to stay where no one will find you, and she'll know what you mean." I smoothed my skirts. Erik walked slowly to the door, and I glanced up. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye." Erik reached over and pulled on the mask I had made for him. It fit him perfectly, the pure white contrasting his dark hair. I grimaced, glancing at his rags.

"Tell her to get you a wardrobe, too. I will pay her back." I walked over to him and kissed him on the cheek not covered by the mask. "Goodbye, Erik."

Erik smiled shakily at me. "Goodbye, Miss. Whethers."

"Adelaide," I corrected crossly. Erik let out the same laugh he had before, free and exhilarating.

"Goodbye, then, Adelaide."

A moment of silence passed between us. I was no good at goodbyes. "Erm," I said, and Erik laughed, then bent and pressed his lips briefly to mine. It was his way of saying thank you. With that, he was gone, and I was left with only the pressure of a last kiss and a solemn tune running through my mind. Humming thoughtfully, I retreated into my room and shut the door.


End file.
